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Friday, March 7, 2025

Explore Our Crazy World

Explore Our Crazy World
© Surazeus
2025 03 07

I have become the gold cloud in the sky 
with eager laughter of the running horse 
through passion to explore our crazy world 
before they blow it up with greedy bombs 
so only mute trees grow where empires thrived, 
transforming our bones into juicy fruit. 

My eyes consume light trapped in shapes of hope 
composed of secrets people throw away 
while trapped in tangled tongues of wordlessness 
with angry penitence of futile faith 
born from confusing trees of honest rocks 
that tumble haughtily in gruesome streams. 

When ghost of God possesses my frail body 
I impersonate that strange deity 
with professional parody of faith 
which channels subconscious angst of desire 
to be light that fractures galaxies 
with spinning obsolescence we exchange. 

While mapping bold catastrophe of hope, 
the ecstatic pessimist of fake Mars 
contrives to imitate electric time 
when he drives truck of curiosity 
while Bastet rests her paw on his right hand 
to guide their journey across the waste land. 

Though Sirius plants the tangerine tree 
on what he thinks is last day of the world, 
he walks backward to unspool road of time 
past all the people rising up from death 
to find the first tree that grew from the Earth 
one hundred forty million years ago. 

Since he thinks greenness is one kind of grief 
that transforms wounds of sorrow into blooms, 
he decides he is not going to grow old 
while building walls of stone with bleeding hands 
so no one else can eat fruit of his tree 
which gives us the magic power of speech. 

I see the planet Jupiter gleam white 
beside silver joy of the crescent moon, 
both lights reflected into the surly pool 
that cleanses my spirit with evening glow 
hidden in pages of never-read books 
to preserve memories I share with no one. 

Gesturing his hands to control the waves, 
Sirius chants spell based on ocean song 
so no one can now recognize his face 
abandoned in dim shadows of lost days 
to become gold clouds in the morning sky 
which transforms juicy fruit into his bones. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus strolls among the fruit trees of his orchard on the dew-wet hillside while Ophelia attends the Association of Writers and Writing Programs conference.

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